Beautiful Things Never Last (14 page)

             
Because
if I stopped to think about it, I might realize that this may not be the best idea I’ve ever had.

             
Because if I think too long about what I’m doing, I might lose sight of the one thing that
is clearer than anything right now
—
and that’s that Linney needs someone.

             
Linney needs
me.

             
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

             
Even though I’m exhausted,
I take the steps up to the house two at a time, because, really, what’s the point in postponing the inevitable awkwardness?
But once I reach the door, I’m not sure what to do. Do I knock?
I still have a key, but I can’t just let myself in, can I?
Shit.

             
The front door swings open and my dad stands there, eyes wide, jaw slack.

             
“Ben?” He says, as if he doesn’t recognize me, or can’t believe I’m really standing here. It’s only been a year, I haven’t changed.
I mean, I have.
Of course.
But not in any way that counts.
Right?
“What are you doing here, son?” He pulls me in for a hug. I don’t remember the last time he
did that, and it’s awkward because
it’s been so long,
and because he’s my dad but
I tower over him
.
I sort of had this vision that when I saw my parents, they’d be different.
My stupid ego sort of let me think that
they’d
upset about me
leaving
,
that they’d be frail or something ridiculous.
But they’re not, b
ecause Dad
,
at least, looks good. Healthy. He smiles broadly and I can’
t help but feel glad to be here, even if that nagging voice in the back of my head tells me it’s wrong.

             
“Hey, Pop,” I say. He pulls me in through the door and
,
though
I notice that
the exterior of the house
has
been painted a light gray rather than the taupe it was before and the stones leading up to the house have been replaced, inside
,
  it feels like time has stood still.  The photos on the walls are the same,
a shot of me for every year I was in school, lined up with precision. Th
e only thing that feels the least bit different is the scale. Everything seems a little smaller. The sofa not quite so overstuffed.
The fireplace mantel not quite so high.
It’s not because I’ve grown, I guess my perception has just changed. Maybe that’s what happens when you move away.

             
My dad stands across from me, staring. Smiling. “Couldn’t miss another holiday with us, couldya?”
he asks.

             
“Something like that,” I say, grinning back at him.

             
“Well, we’re glad you’re here, son. Wish you would have called, I could have picked you up from the airport,” Dad says.

             
I shrug. “I didn’t want to put anyone out. I’ve got a rental.” Also, I didn’t know how long I’d be staying, or if shit would hit the fan as soon as I walked through the door, and I’d have to turn right back around and leave.

             
“How was your Thanksgiving? We missed hearing from you,” Dad says.

             
“Missed you too, Pop.
It was good. Quinn cooked a big meal, all the trimmings.”
I beam with pride.

             
“Good. Still wish you would have been here, though. Nothing like your mom’s cooking.”

             
I smile to oblige him.
“Hey, is Ma around?”
             

             
Dad’s smile turns downward. “She is, yeah. She’s in the basement with…” He lets his gaze drift around the room.

             
“With Caroline?” I ask. He raises his eyebrows, looking relieved that I already know.

             
“Yep. Just getting a few things set up down there for her. You could head on down, or you can wait up here with your old man.”

             
“Yeah, that’s fine, I’ll just wait,” I say.  Dad takes a seat in his recliner and I follow suit, sitting on the sofa.  “So, listen, what’s going on with Linney?”

             
Dad rubs his palms together and sighs. “I don’t know the whole story, Ben, and what I do know probably isn’t
for me
to tell. I’m sure she’ll tell you everything when she’s ready.”

             
“But, she’s okay, right?”

             
“I think she’ll be glad you’
re here. She could use a friend,” Dad says.

             
“That’s
exactly
why I’m here.”
So fast. Without thinking about anything but being here. And I know there are consequences to this decision that I haven’t even begun to
piece
together yet, but I’m pushing those thoug
h
ts away until I get a chance to
do
something here. Hopefully something good.
Something that makes a difference. Or, maybe that’s just my arrogance thinking I have anything left to offer. Maybe I’ve done my fixing and now it’s over.

             
“You really came. Wow. I didn’t mention it to you, Mr. and Mrs. Shaw because I really didn’t think you were serious, Ben!” Caroline rushes to me from the doorway and falls into my arms
. I kiss the top of her head and breathe in the familiar smell of honey from her hair.

             
Caroline looks the same.
Same blond hair, long down her back.
Same warm blush on her pale skin
when she smiles at me
.
Oh, shit, w
as
that friendly greeting out of bounds
? It’
s the first time I’ve let the question of how Quinn would react
if she were here cross my mind.

             
I want to talk to Linney
. I want
to find out what made her leave Kentucky
, h
er school, her friends,
her
parents. H
ow
it is that
she ended u
p living in my parents basement. If
someone hurt
her
and I need to hunt them down
and beat the ever
-
loving shit out of them
. But as I pull back, away from Caroline
,
I see my mom standing at the top of the stairs that lead up from the basement.

             
“We should give you a minute,” Caroline says,
clasping her hands together and
backing into the kitchen with my dad following close behind. “It’s good to see you, though, Ben.”
She flashes me one last smile before disappearing into the kitchen.

             
“Benjamin,” Mom says. Her mouth forms a tight line and I feel like I’m twelve years old all over again.

             
“How you doing, Ma?” I ask.

             
“You came for Christmas?” she asks. She peers around me, then out the window for a split second.

             
“I did. And to check on Linney.”

             
“Of course,” she says. “That’s nice of you. Guess I did something right raising you.”

             
“Ma…”
She’s hit the ground running with her passive-aggressive remarks.
I eye my small duffel bag that I dropped in the corner, debating how shitty it’d look it I picked up my crap and went back to LA right now. This couldn’t get any more uncomfortable than it is. At the same time I’m pondering that, my mom is looking out the window again, and it finally dawns on me what s
he’s doing. “She isn’t here, Ma. I
t’s just me.”

             
I see her shoulders fall, visibly relaxing at the news that Quinn didn’t make the trip with me, and it pisses me off.

             
“Well, that’s a Christmas gift in itself,” she says under her breath.

             
“I heard that. I can go, if you’d like.” I motion to the door. I mean it. I’ll happily grab my bag and leave now. Well, after I find out what’s wrong with Linney.
And maybe Mom knows that. That I came for a reason, and I won’t leave until I’ve figured out what’s going on with Linney.

             
“Don’t leave,” Mom says. She absently runs her hand along the back of the sofa. “
Are
you two
…
broken up?”

             
“No,” I say, feeling anger bubble up and percolate in my chest. “
Not at all.”

             
The disappointment on Mom’s face couldn’t be more clear if it were scrawled out in permanent marker or flashing on a neon sign.

             
“Quinn’s away. In Europe. For school.”

             
“Hmm,” Mom utters a non-committal, unimpressed noise.  “But you’re here. And you’ll be staying here for the holiday?”

             
“If that’s alright”

             
“Of course, Benny,” she says. I cringe at the nickname, but she waves me over for a hug and I’m glad the initial shit-storm is over with. “We can talk about things after you settle in. Oh!
And Caroline mentioned some
shopping she needed to get done.M
aybe you can take her into town?”

             
“Sure thing, Ma.”